It was a sight straight out of a master's painting.
A handsome young man sat in a pavilion beneath a willow tree beside a river. Both the scenery and the subject were perfect for the empty canvas waiting at home.
If it had been an ordinary day, a random fleeting moment, she might have lingered a little longer, committing the scene to memory so she could paint it later. But this was no ordinary day, nor was this a chance encounter. It was not something worth capturing on her canvas.
She could already imagine the look on her aunt's face should the older woman discover that she had painted Rafelius Greyford and kept the artwork in her bedroom.
Elain crossed the bridge hesitantly.
Rafelius sat alone, watching her approach. A small table had been set within the pavilion, with two chairs, a kettle, teacups, and even a plate of treats.
